. ’ ‘So Charvill did tell him,’ Gerald said, once more staring into the hole in the wall. “Yeah. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. Remember that I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, and I’m well aware of your identity. She had a nut-brown skin, a swarthy upper lip, a merry black eye, a prominent bust, and a tun-like circumference of waist. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. To-day is for the sights; the other three days—lessons. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious.
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